


The Necklace

by toushindai (WallofIllusion)



Category: Baccano!
Genre: -ish?, F/F, Femslash February, Long-Distance Relationship, Pining, look ma no porn!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9829574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallofIllusion/pseuds/toushindai
Summary: What to get for the woman who has everything, or at least will in the end. Carla in Lotto Valentino.





	

The necklace in the jewelry shop catches her eye the second day she is in Lotto Valentino. It shouldn’t. She doesn’t wear jewelry, least of all gaudy necklaces like that one which seem designed primarily to show off the wearer’s wealth; and she isn’t meant to be window-shopping right now. She has a mission to carry out in this city. Lucrezia has sent her here—far from Spain—with work to do.

But she can’t help but notice the necklace—the jewels hanging from it demand passerby’s attention—and once noticed, she cannot help but know that the necklace would suit her mistress very well indeed. Gold leaves curl around pearls and pale pink rubies that are made to resemble berries. It would look beautiful resting on Lucrezia’s collarbones. For a moment, Carla imagines that it would make an appealing gift.

But she must shake that thought out of her head. For one, the necklace is surely far beyond her own means. For another, it is presumptuous to think that she has the right to give Lucrezia a gift at all. The noblewoman would _accept_ it, surely—there is nothing she is as fond of as receiving adulation from others—but that would not make it appropriate. Carla understands that she has been sent away. She does not know how she managed to displease her mistress, but the reason doesn’t matter. She must adjust herself to the fact that Lucrezia has lost interest in her, which means she absolutely cannot indulge in the thought of purchasing her a gift at this time. She will work to make this city Lucrezia’s, as Lucrezia has asked of her. There is no need to complicate matters beyond that simple goal.

Still, the necklace seems to sting at the edge of her vision whenever she passes the jeweler’s.

*

The first letter from Lucrezia arrives a week after Carla reaches Lotto Valentino, and it resolves a number of misunderstandings. First, an intimate addendum to the letter makes it exceedingly clear that Lucrezia has not lost interest in Carla at all. And once Carla has managed to wrench her attention away from _that_ (it takes considerable effort), there is the matter of her pay, which arrives half a day later. By weight alone, she suspects an error in the purse that is delivered to her. But the courier has been warned to anticipate her confusion; he assures her that the amount is correct. By the generosity of the House Dormentaire, she has been granted a raise to accompany the change in her role.

She glances down at the receipt tucked into the purse, and somehow manages to keep her face professional. The amount is _absurd_ , bordering on wasteful. For a moment, she wonders what on earth Lucrezia expects her to do with this outlandish sum. But to seek reason in Lucrezia’s whims is a fool’s errand. Instead, Carla dismisses the courier with curt gratitude and tosses the purse onto her desk to be dealt with later. Duty comes more easily to her than leisure, and until she has an idea of what to do with the coins, she will do her best to deserve them.

The answer presents itself later that day when she passes the jeweler’s on her rounds: a quiet _ah_ in her head as everything slots into place. The necklace is still on display in the window. Carla squares her shoulders and steps inside.

The jeweler is an elderly woman with thick glasses and gnarled hands. Seeing Carla, she blinks twice and adjusts her glasses; when this fails to resolve the alleged contradiction between Carla’s uniform and her figure, she shrugs and pulls an obsequious smile onto her face.

“Good afternoon. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m interested in the necklace in the window,” Carla answers. “The one with the pearls and rubies. How much is it?”

The jeweler’s smile grows sly. “You have exquisite taste. Would you like to try it on?”

“No, thank you, it isn’t for myself. The price, if you please.”

The jeweler comes out from behind the counter and walks past Carla to lift the necklace from its wooden perch. The rubies sparkle as they catch the light. “It’s beautiful craftsmanship, isn’t it? All the way from London, and the pearls, I believe, are from France…”

Carla patiently listens to her sales patter, though it will have no effect on her decision. She _wants_ to buy this necklace for her mistress, though it is presumptuous, though it is inappropriate. All that matters is whether she can manage to afford it before it catches the fancy of someone with better means than she.

“Are you quite certain you wouldn’t like to try it on?” the jeweler offers again. “It would look beautiful on you.”

She is undoing the clasp and lifting it to Carla’s neck. Carla catches her arm to stop her, but doesn’t hold it tightly enough to cause a scene. Just enough to warn her. “It doesn’t matter how it would look on me. I would like to give it as a gift. Please tell me how much it costs.”

The jeweler simpers and lowers her arms. “Well, dear, I’m afraid that if you have to ask…”

“Please tell me anyway.”

She tells her.

Carla takes a quiet breath and sighs it out again, irritated with herself and with the sheer amount of money that the rich were willing to spend on decorative trinkets. It would have taken her a year of saving everything she could spare from her usual salary to afford the necklace. But with her new salary—

“May I place it on hold for three months?”

“I’m afraid I can’t just…”

“I can pay the first third tomorrow.”

“Half,” the jeweler counters.

Carla hesitates. She is aware of how ridiculous this is; Lucrezia has no shortage of beautiful jewelry and hasn’t asked Carla for this, and even if she were to request a necklace from Carla, there are surely cheaper ones in this very shop.

But Carla dislikes the jeweler’s attitude and dislikes contradicting herself without reason even more. Between the money she brought and the money she received today, she can afford to pay half of the necklace’s price if she lives ascetically for the next month. And it isn’t as though she intends to live a wild life here, anyway.

“Very well,” she says at last. “I’ll bring it by around this time tomorrow.”

By the look on the jeweler’s face, it seems that she’s not quite convinced that Carla plans to keep that promise. She is visibly startled when Carla returns the next day and counts out the amount requested. But once she, too, has counted the coins, the jeweler’s attitude suddenly becomes polite, and she makes a grand show of placing the necklace in a velvet box and tucking it safely behind the counter. Carla signs a contract and promises to return in two months’ time.

It’s a ridiculous decision, but she’s committed to it now. Perhaps Lucrezia’s impulsivity is contagious.

*

And, in two months, the necklace is in Carla’s possession.

The jeweler smiles excessively as she pulls the box back out from behind the counter and shows off the necklace.

“It’s yours,” she says.

“It’s a gift,” Carla reminds her, matter-of-fact, and accepts the box.

“That’s right, you did say that! What a lucky lady you’ve bought it for. Let me guess—your mother? Or perhaps a sister, on the occasion of her wedding?”

Carla’s face is as rigid as stone. If she were a man, she could safely confess that the necklace is meant for the woman she serves. Anyone would call it chivalrous for a knight to spend a year’s salary on a gift for his lady. She does not care to know how the jeweler feels about a woman doing so, and so she lies.

“My best friend,” she says. “We grew up together. She will be married in the spring.”

“What a _wonderful_ friend you are,” the jeweler beams.

It’s a kind—or, more accurately, flattering—thing to say, but it leaves Carla feeling foolish as she departs from the shop. She has served Lucrezia for only five years, and there is no occasion for this outrageously expensive gift. She simply saw something that Lucrezia might like and handed over the lion’s share of three months’ salary for it. It is ridiculous.

But when she returns to her room, she opens the box to look at the necklace once more, and the candlelight makes the rubies sparkle and the gold and the pearls gleam. She pictures Lucrezia’s eyes sparkling, too, when she sees it; she pictures Lucrezia entrusting her with the task of fastening it around her neck. And from there, she dares not imagine anything specific, but her pulse races anyway.

She has been weighing whether to send this necklace to her mistress, or to wait and deliver it in person. The thought of bearing witness to Lucrezia’s gratitude makes the decision for her. She tucks the box into a corner of her trunk, collects herself, and returns to the task for which she was sent out.

(She realizes a month later that once Lotto Valentino belongs to Lucrezia, she will no doubt buy out the entire jewelry store on her own if it suits her fancy. To purchase one necklace from them was, perhaps, utterly moot.)

(She hopes that Lucrezia will at least appreciate the sentiment.)

*

A year passes; in that time, the so-called criminal who serves as the excuse for Carla’s presence in the city turns herself in and is held captive, and then she is slain in a surprise assault on the Dormentaire ships. She is the only human casualty of the attack.

Even so, it is natural for the Dormentaires to retaliate after this challenge to their sovereignty—never mind that they are not yet sovereign here. Carla is told that there is no need to hide the invasion any longer. Vengeful black ships pour into Lotto Valentino’s harbor, filled with knights and soldiers who have been instructed to obey Carla’s commands. Engineers and carpenters build the ships into a single bizarre fortress. Carla receives another raise.

And throughout it all, Lucrezia writes to her. Lucrezia is amused by the assault and the opportunity it has presented; she is generous with her flattery, assuring Carla that no one else would be able to handle the invasion so neatly; she is, as she tells it, _dreadfully_ lonely at times and simply _aching_ to hold Carla again.

Carla writes back as is her duty, and she is privately certain that she misses Lucrezia even more than her mistress misses her. She is tired of this city and its duplicitous citizens, equally tired of the smug soldiers infesting the city. She wants to return home. She wants to stand guard at her mistress’s side again.

At night, she pulls the necklace out of her trunk and imagines it gracing Lucrezia’s throat, imagines coy delight on her mistress’s lips. The invasion is nearly complete, she tells herself; the city can’t hold out much longer. Soon she will see Lucrezia again.

*

Even sooner than she hopes, perhaps: the Mask Makers begin setting off bombs all over Lotto Valentino, and it piques Lucrezia’s whimsical curiosity.

Victor rages when he hears that Lucrezia intends to come see Lotto Valentino “before the poor city blows itself to smithereens,” fearing for her safety. His reaction is probably the more logical one. Carla, on the other hand, feels her heart swell with joy. If the city is dangerous, then it will be up to her to guard Lucrezia as she is meant to do, as she has been trained to do. In anticipation of her arrival, she takes the necklace’s box out of her trunk and places it, open, on her desk. Every night she dreams of Lucrezia. Every day she scans the horizon for the ship’s approach.

She is turned away when the first explosion cripples the Dormentaire ship; she whirls desperately around and sees the second destroy any hope of survivors. All the air leaves Carla’s lungs at once. She isn’t aware of falling to her knees. The sound of the explosions rings in her ears for far longer than it should and drowns out the sound of someone else taking charge in her stead. She needs to do something. She needs to _do something_. She cannot move.

When she finally stumbles back to her room, she sees the necklace on display and feels traitorous tears burning behind her eyelids. She snaps the box closed and throws it into her trunk, hurrying to conceal it from herself beneath her spare jackets. But her hands tremble around the fabric because if it hadn’t been for Lucrezia and her willful caprice, Carla would still be wearing skirts and washing bed linens. And this is why attempts to constrain her feelings to the professional have failed, time after time: Lucrezia is at the root of everything in this life that Carla loves, everything that makes her feel alive. It is weakness, to lean so heavily on another person, but it would have been disloyal to deny her gratitude.

And now Lucrezia is gone.

Carla shuts the trunk, shuts her eyes. Bites her lower lip to keep her breathing steady. Despair weighs on her like a stone, but come morning, she will still have a job to do. The Dormentaires’ vengeance will fall upon this city, and it will be her job to direct it. Lotto Valentino will fall to the Dormentaires. That is why Carla is here. That is her only purpose.

She begins to accompany the Dormentaire soldiers on raids because it gives her something to do instead of think. Duty is easier than the dreaded, shapeless expanse of leisure time.

She does not indulge the desperate part of her mind that wants to believe that if she can only bring Lotto Valentino under control, Lucrezia will arrive and lay claim to it as she has so long sought to do. But she does not stifle the thought, either, and something keeps her from throwing the necklace into the sea.

*

Lucrezia isn’t dead.

Carla is relieved to discover this, and then she is furious. But the fury burns out quickly and the relief remains, leaving her feeling weak and vulnerable. Lucrezia forgives her outburst and asks her to bed. She has spent too long missing Lucrezia to refuse the invitation.

Lucrezia doesn’t seem to grasp why Carla keeps tearing up, but she kisses away every tear.

The next day, she insists that Carla live with her in Esperanza’s manor from now on. If the count has any objections, he does not voice them, and instead he offers the assistance of his maids to pack up her things from the ship. Lucrezia waves away the offer with a sunny smile.

“ _I’ll_ help her,” she says. “I want to see that dear Strassberg’s work up close.”

It is easy to fall into their old rhythms: Lucrezia coos over the floating fortress and Carla answers dispassionately. Inside Carla’s room, Lucrezia scolds her for how boring it is, how without personality. Carla reminds her that this has always been her complaint about Carla’s personal spaces, and that perhaps what Lucrezia calls “without personality” reflects Carla’s personality very well indeed. Lucrezia giggles.

Carla begins packing up her desk, unsurprised when Lucrezia does not actually do much to help her. Instead, she digs into Carla’s trunk as soon as Carla turns her back. Thinking nothing of her nosiness, Carla ignores her and keeps working, but then Lucrezia lets out a quiet _oooh._

“Carla, sweetheart, do you have an admirer you never told me about?”

Confused by the question, Carla turns back towards her—only to see that she has found the necklace. Her eyes sparkle as she examines it; then she lifts a delicate eyebrow in Carla’s direction.

“Whoever he is, he doesn’t quite understand your taste, does he, darling?”

“It’s for you, milady.”

Lucrezia’s mouth forms a perfect O of surprise, and Carla’s face reddens at the blunt gracelessness of her own statement. She has pictured herself presenting the necklace to her mistress from one knee; she has pictured herself having something romantic or, failing that, at least _chivalrous_ to say as she does so. But Lucrezia has always managed to make her lose her footing. She never really thought this would be any different.

Carla closes her pen-case and puts it down to give her full attention to her mistress. “I noticed it at the jeweler’s when I first arrived in Lotto Valentino,” she explains, “and I couldn’t ignore how well it would suit you.”

“Oh, Carla!” Lucrezia’s eyes shine. She runs her fingers over the necklace with delight. “Carla, it’s _lovely_! You really got it for me?”

“Yes, milady.”

“And then you kept it all to yourself for two and a half years?”

There is mischief in Lucrezia’s eyes that dares Carla to answer honestly. So she confesses, “I hoped to have the honor of placing it around your neck myself the first time you wore it.”

“Greedy Carla.” Lucrezia’s smile makes this into a compliment. “Come here then, darling.”

She hands the box over to Carla and then lifts her chin, baring her neck to her guard. Carla lifts the necklace off its resting place, sets the box aside, and undoes the clasp. She fastens the necklace around her mistress’s neck and corrects it so that it lies centered on her bosom. Then she takes a half-step backwards to confirm what she has always known:

“It’s beautiful, milady.”

“Is it?”

“Very.”

Lucrezia chuckles and traces one finger down Carla’s jawbone. “Carla, you amaze me. All this time I’ve spent missing a memory of you, and you manage to be even more wonderful than I remembered. You must never go so far away from me again, you understand?”

“If that is what my lady wishes,” Carla answers, not quite hiding her smile, and she lets Lucrezia pull her into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> ["an intimate addendum to the letter"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5951773)


End file.
